


At Last

by orphan_account



Category: Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M, benvolio is a precious cinnamon roll boyfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:31:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4135809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Benvolio gets hurt, and Mercutio can't help but feel responsible.</p><p>“I’ll kill him,” Mercutio hissed softly, the shadow-darkened room obscuring the true rage marring his face. “I’ll kill him for what he’s done to you, Benvolio. I swear I will.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	At Last

It was his fault.

He hadn’t even been involved, for once; a fight between the Montagues and the Capulets had been just that, as petty and hotblooded as ever. Mercutio had barely even seen the fight begin, in those few crucial seconds between the beginning and the end, when suddenly Tybalt made a quick move and there was blood, blood on the cobblestones and blood on his hands and blood everywhere.

“I’ll kill him,” Mercutio hissed softly, the shadow-darkened room obscuring the true rage marring his face. “I’ll kill him for what he’s done to you, Benvolio. I swear I will.”

“Mercutio.”

“Don’t you dare say it’s alright,” Mercutio half-snapped at him, before he caught his own anger and lowered his voice again. He knew what Benvolio would say; and he couldn’t listen to his excuses, his forgiveness. Not this time. “It isn’t. He hurt you, Benvolio.”

A hand on his shoulder made his entire body tense even further. Even despite what had happened, Benvolio’s touch was still as steady and familiar as ever. “So I really look that bad, then?” he asked, and to Mercutio’s bafflement there was a hint of humor in the other boy’s voice. "It’s only a scratch. Nothing more.“

"A deep scratch,” Mercutio shot back, finally turning his head in order to look at him. “A bad one, as well. It might even leave a scar…” His words trailed off, honey-shaded eyes lingering over the wound inflicted by the Capulet bastard’s knife. In spite of himself, he felt his throat start to constrict. “Benvolio, your _face_ …”

“Will heal,” replied Benvolio, sitting down in the floor next to him. Patiently, he allowed Mercutio to graze his fingers over the gash, harsh and angry after the stitches he’d received earlier in the day, that now ran almost vertically down the side of his temple and cheek. Mercutio inhaled deeply at the feeling of tender skin, just starting to heal, under his rough fingertips. Benvolio didn’t seem as upset, but Mercutio would gladly have run out and tracked Tybalt down for a fight right at that moment were it not for the fact that he knew how upset the injured Montagues boy would get.

He was almost startled when he felt Benvolio’s fingers gently brushing along his wrist. “See? It’s not so bad, is it?”

Mercutio pursed his lips. “I would gladly fight him to death and beyond if he ever did anything to truly injure you. You know that.”

Benvolio nodded. “I do. But Mercutio, this will heal. This will heal and one day I believe that Tybalt will learn the error of his ways.”

Mercutio couldn’t stop the scoff that slipped it’s way past his lips. “You’re too optimistic, Ben.”

“No. Just hopeful.” 

The summer daylight was just starting to wear itself out; the last vestiges of a troubled day shone it’s way through the little window up in the attic of the Montague mansion, casting the entire room- from the cushiony pillows and graphic novels strewn across the floor to the childhood drawings pinned up all around the room- in a warm orange glow. Benvolio allowed himself to lean against Mercutio, resting his head upon his chest, and the other boy gladly accepted its presence there. Benvolio had always been terrified of hospitals, and getting stitches had undoubtedly left him even more exhausted than being minced by Tybalt; Mercutio was glad to do anything he could to help.

Presently, after some time of silence between the two boys, Benvolio spoke again; his voice little more than a whisper under the spell of the quiet room. “Do you really think it’ll scar?”

Mercutio shrugged. He had seen lesser injuries leave ghastly scars; but the cut had been fairly clean and the Montagues had hired a skilled surgeon. “I don’t know. It might.” He glanced at Benvolio from the corner of his eye. “Does that worry you?”

“A little,” the other boy replied. “Maybe.”

Mercutio ran his hand up and down Benvolio’s arm. “It’s not in such an obvious place. And besides, even if it does scar, you’ll look handsome with it; like a rugged explorer type. And adventure hero, saving the day and getting marked for it in the process.”

Benvolio snickered. “Did you really just imply that I could ever look ‘rugged’?”

“Maybe I did,” parried Mercutio, smirking slightly. “At any rate… it’ll look badass.”

The smile on Benvolio’s closed lips when he tilted his head up to look at him was almost enough to assuage the last of Mercutio’s lingering anger towards Tybalt- almost, of course, because hurting Benvolio was something no one could ever be allowed to get away with, especially not some knife-happy Capulet. But Mercutio would get revenge in his own time, a time when Benvolio did not have to be around to deal with the fallout.

For now, he thought, his hand slowly moving up to run through the silky locks of Benvolio’s dark hair, it would be alright if they just stayed right where they were for a little while longer.

**Author's Note:**

> Explanation: My sister gave me a Bencutio prompt, and since I’ve recently fallen into Romeo and Juliet hell, I had to do something with it. So this happened. The prompt, for the record, was “Benvolio gets hurt and Mercutio feels responsible.” And this is my attempt to revive my AO3 account.


End file.
